Making Him Squirm
by Basco57
Summary: Extreme sports by definition are perceived as having a high level of inherent danger, but the athlete gets some sick joy out of it that spectators may not comprehend. Do you see where the comparison between our relationship and hang gliding makes sense?


**Summary: Extreme sports by definition are perceived as having a high level of inherent danger, but the athlete gets some sick joy out of it that spectators may not comprehend. You see where the comparison between our relationship and hang gliding makes sense?**

**A/N: This is not my 'kangaroo story', sorry. Be patient. For those of you who are hardcore Freddie fans, and don't like that Sam always gets the best of/abuses him...trust me, just keep reading...it gets better... And those of you who get a kick out of that aspect of the relationship (myself), well hot damn! You're in the right place!  
Oh, and this is only gonna be a one shot, just to let you know.  
Sam POV (I'm rusty).**

**Disclaimer: Geeze, guys! I'm working on it! **

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Okay, so maybe if I knew it was gonna this fun, I might've started it a awhile back. Maybe.

I mean, I've always known how to piss the kid off. A simple twist of his arm, or stab at his manhood, or I just tell the whole world that he's never kissed a girl, and I can send that boy into a spiraling vortex of darkness and depression. Or, I can get him peeved off enough to actually fight back. Trust me, it's the most fun when my insults go right through his little pacifist wall, and suddenly dorkboy's keeping up with my pace of firing comebacks. Though sometimes things don't go as planned for me. Sometimes, he just ignores me, or Carly intervenes before we can get into a real good one, and I've got to dig a bit deeper.

And that's why this is working out so great. Well, for me it is. You see, that's always what it's been about. Every jab, every insult, every challenge, every threat…it all comes down to the fact that I just can't get enough of watching the dork squirm.

A few months ago, I would've, say, stalked after him with a frying pan, and he'd be squirming hardcore. But as of recent events, I am pleased to tell you that I have found a more sufficient and entertaining way to make the boy act like he's walking on needles.

I like to call it 'extreme dating.' You know, like extreme sports? It makes sense. Extreme sports by definition are perceived as having a high level of inherent danger, but the athlete gets some sick joy out of it that spectators may not comprehend. You see where the comparison between our relationship and hang gliding makes sense?

Naturally, when I require means to make him squirm, the extreme part is still there. I'm not letting up on the insults, or the frying pan business, or the baseball bat business for that matter, or the sick games that make his mental health my play toy. Don't worry, the mental and physical abuse are as there as ever…I just have a bit of a different way of doing both. Right, so, for those of you who have a weak stomach, and don't like me abusing Freddie, don't worry. It toughens the kid up. And I don't think it's too far fetched of me to assume that Freddie likes it better this way as well.

Like, now that we're 'dating', or whatever…Dating…I don't really like labels…He's the 'sometimes cute tech geek who I occasionally make out with, and who gets yelled at when he flirts with other girls'. Yeah, that's a label I can deal with. Anyway, now that we're a so called 'couple', the emotional abuse is so much more fun!

Exhibit A) Say we are watching TV…or, you know, _not_ watching TV, _if you know what I mean_. Heh. If you know what I mean. You can practically say that phrase behind anything, and it sounds dirty. 'I found a nickel after we went out for ice cream…if you know what I mean.' Hah, kinky! Eh hem…Sorry. Okay, so we _aren't _watching TV, or at least that's what I feel like doing, and Freddo thinks he can get cute and pulls a 'too tired' or 'stop it, Sam, I'm trying to watch Battle Star Galactica' on me. Don't worry, not all is lost. In fact, I have quite the piece of leverage in these situations.

You see, I just have to remind him that _he's_ the one who insisted on this whole thing in the first place. I just remind him how he all grabbed me by the shoulders, and pushed me against my locker, and started confessing all this random crap, like how he loves all the things I do and my little quirks, or whatever. Supposedly, when I get angry, I've got some mighty cute wrinkles on my nose. Apparently these wrinkles are cute enough to make the dork who claims we aren't even friends drop his books, pin me against a locker, and start screaming in my face how much it kills him to not be with me, and blah, blah, details, details…Luckily we were alone, or I may have died from embarrassment.

Anyway, I bring this particular moment up, he remembers what he went through to finally get me, and suddenly Battle Star Galactica isn't as important as my jaw line, or my mouth, or neck, or, you know, just my general upper body…yeah. Trust me, I've got this boy dangling from a string.

Exhibit B for emotional squirmization) I play a fun game called ignorance. I will completely ignore him when he comes to hang out at Carly's. I'll pretend to be mad about a fight (as _if_), or something, so that I can watch him squirm and try to figure out what's wrong. I like it when he finally explodes his apologies and is on his knees, begging me to talk to him, within minutes of my silence. But my favorite is when he gets stubborn, and ignores me right back. Then it becomes a game. Whoever is the first to crack, loses. And when I say crack, I mean whoever can't go on ignoring the other, or in most cases, whoever can't _stay off _the other person. But I have oodles of self control. I self control myself all the time, so I normally win that game. Extreme dating is fun when you are the reigning champ.

You understand the emotional part of me making him squirm now? I walk into the room, he brightens up. I wink, he melts. I glare, he cowers. I would venture to say that Fredhead is somewhere relatively close to my fingertips. …_If you know what I mean_… See!? Told you. It's dirty every time!

Now, the physical part of extreme dating, also known as 'mission make dorkwad squirm', which is just as, if not more fun than playing with his emotions.

Exhibit A) I carry a wooden baseball bat with me at all times. Freddie tends to squirm. Enough said.

Exhibit B) Did you know Freddo's weak spot is his earlobe? Heh, girl. Well, not really…In fact, I am very glad that he _isn't_ a girl…Right, well, if any of _you _girls (and guys. Hey, I'm politically correct!) ever find yourself in a situation where that piece of information about dear Fredward comes in handy, I will hunt you, I will find you, I will scalp you, I may wear it briefly, I will stick your scalp onto a tribal staff, and hang it in the streets for everyone to see…And probably not in that order. You've been warned.

Right, well, _I _am allowed to use that piece of information about his earlobe to my heart's content. Just another, uh, physical thing that gets Freddie a'squirmin'.

And these days, if he even catches me looking at him for more than, like, two seconds he gets all antsy and fidgety with, I dunno, anticipation. But, man, the boy really suffers when I'm on the other side of the room and I look at him. Naturally, I stare him down when this does occur. And to add to his squirming, and my instant gratification, I occasionally lick my lips while I've got his eye, leaving him writhing…and leaving Spencer confused (we've only told Carly. Yes, we do have quite a lot of fun with Spencer these days…he thinks that Freddie's developed a twitch! Now that's what I call a job well done on my part).

Alright, you getting the picture I'm panting here? You picking up what I'm throwing down? You sniffin' the ham I pulled out of the oven? You gaggin' on the spoon that I'm stickin' down your throat? Yeah? Good.

You see, things just work out when I can make him squirm at the drop of a hat. When he gets antsy just because I glance at him, I'd say I'm doing alright. And when Carly goes upstairs to change, and Spencer is in his room, Frederly turns into the twitchin'est damn thing you ever saw. And I know that he's thinking about the last time we were alone in the Shay's living room. I mean, you know, judging by the way he'll physically brace himself and everything. But, sometimes I don't feel like tackling him onto the couch and forcing access into his mouth, you know? Sometimes, I just like to sit and watch him fidget, and tense, and brighten up at the prospect of what I have in store for him for our two minutes of alone time.

'Cuase I'm never doing the same thing to him. Like I just said, sometimes I will level him into the couch, sometimes I will smirk as he waits for me to do it. Sometimes I egg him on, just so he'll slowly stalk across the room, taking a step with every insult he spits out, until he's screaming in right in my face. This always works when I'm in a comfortable position, because then I don't have to move to put my lips on his mouth. And then the argument is immediately forgotten, and, trust me, he's perfectly fine with everything at this point. Seriously, it must be great dating me. I'm very spontaneous. I'm never going to do the same thing twice. I don't let a dull moment slip through. Gah, I wish _I _could date me!

Which is not creepy in any way, shape, or form, you sicko.

So, like I said, I could get Benson to do anything for me. I've got him squirming in the palm of my hand, and my finger is about ready to fall off the way he's so tightly wrapped around it, hah, hah. I'm clever. You see? Mama plays to win, and win she does. I blow a strand of hair out of my eyes, and Freddie is butter. It's as simple as that. Anyway, I'm walking into Carls' for rehearsal right now. Hey! Speaking of Whizpants, look who's here already…

And suddenly I'm light headed, because though I just man-handled another lock, and I'm physically standing on the Shay's entry rug, I'm not really here. Not yet. I won't feel like I'm in the room until he looks at me, or until he touches my hand, or even makes a rude joke at my expense, just to let everyone know I'm his.

Looks like today is the joke. "Wow, Sam, you came to rehearsal, and we didn't even have to bribe you with fried chicken. Progress!"

Okay, now I can breath…Still a little too fast…Slow it down, Puckett.

I smile at Carly, and Spencer, then make my way on weak legs over to Freddie on the couch. I gratefully drop next to him, 'cause I'm pretty sure that my knees were just about to give out. At this point, I've made an art out of keeping that bored and disinterested look on my face when I'm around him. And of course I've got to act natural, so, "Yup, progress. Now if only we could get you out of your footie pajamas...."

I guess this time I didn't do so well with my practiced nonchalance, because he's ready to shoot back, but then one look in my eyes, and his angry expression is exchanged for concern. Then the concern turns to amusement, and he's got that godforsaken, amazing, annoying smirk thing he does all over his face, and I'm angry at myself because it makes me woozy, and he's the one who's triumphant this time. And what kills me most is that I know he knows it, and I know he's getting cocky, and it amuses me, even makes me happy for him! Well, a little bit, that is.

I try to shake it off, you know, because it's nothing when I sometimes get some _sick_, disgusting joy out of seeing Freddie happy. It's seriously nothing. It's nothing when I have to literally force myself to look away from his profile in Chemistry. It's nothing when he has to go home and eat dinner, and I have to hide my phone under the Shay's table so I can obsessively text him without anyone raising an eyebrow at how I don't need him. It's nothing when I insult and abuse and prank him constantly just because my life revolves around the anticipation for his reactions. It's nothing when I squirm all through class because I'm dying to get into the hallway, and find him. It's nothing when I lie wide awake until Carly falls asleep so I can sneak across the hall to 8D, and be there to surprise him in the morning. Seriously, it's nothing.

But I guess today he isn't getting my indifferent vibes. His eyebrows scrunch together uneasily for a moment upon watching my face, and he puts his arm around my shoulders quickly, giving me a little squeeze. And now I am finally able to slow my breathing because his I'm in his hold. Now if only I could control this weird sensation I have to squirm, and get my racing heartbeat in check…

Oh, right, sorry. I kind of went off there for a moment. Sorry. I guess Freddo can be _somewhat _distracting. Sometimes. Maybe. On a good day. For him. Okay, well, where were we…? Ah, yes!

So I can pretty much make Freddie melt. I've got this kid totally hooked, and reeled, baby. And he's pretty darn lucky that he's cute when he squirms, 'cause with me around, he's doing it quite a bit. My goal is to have him trained to water at the mouth when he smells ham, and not because it's the _ham _he's looking forward to…_if you know what I mean._ Gah, that never get's old!

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**A/N: Alright, there you go, kiddos, who are probably older than me. Please, how was my Sam voice? I kinda wrote this to try and find it again because I couldn't write her POV in my current multi-chap fic in progress to save my life. Seriously, be stern when you give your opinion. Okay, eh...So here I just figured that if Sam and Freddo did start dating, Sam would only be able to live with it/herself if she had the idea that she was in total control, and was oblivious to the fact that he has the same hold on her that she has on him. Well, maybe just for the first few weeks. I'd like to think that she will eventually see that she actually is obsessed him, haha. She's ignoring it kind of on purpose, kind of subconscious, in this particular story. If you didn't pick up on that, that is. **

**Okay, tell me what you think. Leave a review. I wrote this at 4 AM, homey, so it's the least you can do, eh? Thanks for reading..._if you know what I mean_. See!?!  
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